Epic Ink
by beehoon
Summary: A series of light, fluffy one shots, not in chronological order. Chapter 4: Polish. A byproduct of potion making, a bard who is incredibly bored and a wand of sleep. What good could come of this?:p
1. Epic Ink

I heard someone come into the war room, and I scuttled under the heavy table, taking my manuscript and quill with me. As I huddled while trying very hard to be quiet, I saw ink spots on the carpet. Oh crud. I hope no one noticed or Kana would soon have me by the collar, dragging me off to read whatever boring reports and contracts waited dustily on my desk. Not to mention that the carpet had probably cost me enough gold to buy many pretty shiny gems for enchanting.

A pair of boots walked into my line of vision, and Bishop bent over and picked up the ink pot, which until then had been sitting out there, by its lonesome, inky self. Our eyes met and he lifted a quizzical eyebrow. Oh _crap_. But then again, he was the least likely to give me away to Kana. Maybe. He might have if he thought it would be amusing enough.

"Here I was, on yet another boring sunny day, hoping I could find a paladin to goad. Instead, I find where our dear Captain is spending her afternoons. How…unexpected."

I heard Kana's voice, far too close for comfort. "Captain? Is she around?" Before he could react, I pulled him down. He fell over with a surprised grunt, spilling the entire ink pot, and I clapped my hand over his mouth, attempting to edge both of us under the cover of the table. From the doorway, no one could see us, but if they actually came into the room…

"Strange. I thought I heard someone calling the Captain. I must be imagining things." I heaved a sigh of relief as I heard her walk away.

"Now look what you've done to my shirt!" he hissed in an annoyed whisper, rubbing at the ink spatters futilely. I considered telling him that it was just making the ink soak through _very_ thoroughly, but decided against it.

"Look what you've done to my carpet! I ought to charge for these things! And now I've got to find somewhere else to hide!"

He regarded me with that snide smile, and then wiped his ink-stained hand on my shirt. I squealed, and then remembered that I was so supposed to be hiding. I knocked his hand away, and he reached out an inky fingertip and touched my nose. When I opened my mouth to scream, he put a finger to his lips and pointed in Kana's general direction with his other hand. His lips curved in a wicked smile, and he winked, slowly and deliberately.

This is _war_!

I wiped the ink pot with my fingers, scraping up all that was left, and attacked. After a few minutes, during which I nearly choked trying not to make any noise, we both ended the struggle by mutual unspoken consent. He looked terrible, streaks of ink crossing his face and neck haphazardly. It looked like war paint. Sort of. The artist would need to be having a seizure and be more than a little demented to begin with. I didn't think that I emerged as the winner in this little fracas though.

He held up my hand in front of my face. "Someone needs to cut her fingernails. And change your ink! This stuff stings."

"Well, generally I don't go rubbing it into open wounds." He snorted loudly, and I traced a smiley face on a relatively clean part of his neck. "Here's the hair," a jaggedy line to show how messy it was, "Here's the whole face, and the ears, then eyes and mouth. Oh dear. I didn't leave enough space for your nose. Never mind, fortunately, you've already got one." I reached up and tweaked it, making sure to leave liberal amounts of ink.

He couldn't help laughing quietly then, and he sounded so carefree, with no trace of his usual bitterness. When he finally stopped, he asked wryly, "So what has you holed up here everyday?"

I waved my notes around, and he rolled his eyes. "Finger painting with ink? I know you had a deprived childhood, but this is really stretching it."

"I'll have you know that until you came in and decided that the world needed more black in its repertoire, this was perfectly a good manuscript about our epic adventure. I was just getting to the exciting bits!"

"Oh?" it was amazing how much meaning he inject into a single syllable.

"The part where you jump Casavir, holy paladin of Tyr!"

"_What?_" The look on his face was priceless. "Please tell me that you mean I was about to kill him. Or slice off little bits, at least."

I savoured his horrified expression as I told him exactly what I had in mind, "Nope, you were stripping off his armour while he was cutting you out of yours. And then you were going to snog! Extended exchange of saliva! Much manly love!"

He gave me a taste of my own medicine then, covering my mouth with his inky palm before I could continue. "You are so completely insane that it's a wonder how that paladin still keeps mooning over you."

"Says he who stabs people for fun," I mumbled into his hand.

"It _is_ fun. Let me stress that. Stabbing people is fun. Goading the paladin is fun. Writing explicit stories about the paladin and I is _not _fun."

"Would you prefer that I make you hit on and hump everything that moves? …… Oh wait, you already do that, both in real life and the story. Forget I said anything."

"You are such a corrupted little girl. I daresay I'm still worse than you, but I had an eight-year head start. And I don't hit on everything; just everyone attractive."

"Any gender and/or species will do?"

"Females only, darling. And it seems I haven't been paying you enough attention, or you wouldn't have enough time to be writing such naughty things." His voice was seductively low now, and he released his hold on my mouth, only to pull me closer so that he could nuzzle my neck. His lips traveled from there, to the line of my jaw, and thence to my own mouth, brushing against my skin with a touch as light as a butterfly's wings.

He drew back then, smirking. "The wordsmith finds herself at a sudden loss? How bizarre," Leaning in closer, he breathed, "You're a lousy kisser, for someone with such an…active imagination."

He really knew how to stir people into action, I'll give him that. Lousy kisser? I'll show him! He kissed me again, very softly at first, and then harder, his tongue teasing mine as my lips parted. He tasted vaguely of ink, and I hoped that it wasn't poisonous. Yep, definitely time to get Sand to concoct a non-toxic variety.

He was pressing his whole body against me, and I remembered that he was deliciously, leanly muscular. I opened my eyes briefly, only to discover that he looked _very_ weird so close up. To be fair, even my warm and familiar blankie looked very strange when it was less than an inch from my eyes.

Shandra's voice knocked both of us out of whatever what we had been in. "So. Er. I think that I really don't want to know."

"No. You really don't." his typical sneer reappeared from nowhere.

She shot me a look that promised an interrogation when we were alone, and walked off. I heard a clank of plate mail, and groaned audibly. With a clatter, Casavir bent over and beheld what could possibly qualify as the strangest sight he had ever laid eyes on. His piercing blue eyes met mine, and his face contorted in an expression which could be surmised in a single syllable: "_Huh?_"

I knew I was blushing furiously, but I doubted that anyone could see it under the ink anyway. Bishop was smirking so widely that I thought he would unhinge his jaw if he tried any harder. His hand tangled in my hair as he sank into another long, deep, _pointed _kiss.

There was a hasty jangle as Casavir straightened up, and judging by the muffled grunt, bumped something hard on the way up. Bishop finally let me go, with a self-satisfied smirk, which I decided would be typically described as "cat which swallowed the canary".

He snatched my manuscript and slid out from under the table before I could grab him, and handed it to the paladin. "For the love of all that is holy to you, burn this." He then sauntered off, seemingly unbothered by his appearance.

Casavir was just standing there, a bemused expression on his normally neutral face. I felt more than a little guilty, but I took the manuscript back from his unresisting hand. "Do I want to know what's in there?"

I blushed again. What seemed like harmless play with Bishop would probably strike my staid follower with apoplexy. "No—you don't. Trust me on this."

He smiled faintly. "I always do, my lady. I shall have a bath drawn for you." He turned away, and hesitated. "My lady, allow me to be blunt. He is…unreliable. And he is just pushing you as far as you will allow him to go. Be careful."

Casavir was more observant than Bishop gave him credit for.

I ducked my head to avoid those sharp blue eyes. "I will. Thanks for looking out for me. Anyway, I'm going to get cleaned up. And could you please, _please_ distract Kana while I run to the bathroom?"

He bowed. "Ever at your service, my lady." That faint smile still lingered as he walked out.

I listened carefully, and sprinted out when I judged that the coast was clear. It was indeed. Milil bless Casavir! Or Tyr. I guess he would prefer Tyr's blessings.

_That night_

"So, how was it?" Shandra grinned slyly as she asked.

"How was what?"

"Don't try to pretend that nothing happened. If you want me to spell it out, I will." She raised her voice. "I was just inquiring as to how was our lovely Lady-Captain's first kiss!!" Her strident voice echoed off the Keep's stone walls, and she snickered when she saw me cringe.

"Shhh!" I was blushing again, and cursing myself for it. "It was okay, I guess. Undignified, and kissing involves way too much saliva for my liking."

She gave me an incredulous look, then threw her head back and laughed.

If I had more ink, I would have thrown it at her.


	2. Corset

_A/N: Many thanks to Emperor Devon (oddly enough, he was the inspiration for this story) and Samuel Dravis for their helpful comments (although I doubt that either of you will be reading it here:p). This is dedicated to the bodice rippers out there, especially the vampire ones:p I also would like to pay homage to fuxfell and Kaana Moonshadow with their awesome "Of Mice and Men", as well as to Melirinda for the Bishop Romance mod 3 Have fun reading!_

The plump matronly woman relaxed her hold on the laces, but I sure as hell wasn't fooled. "Now ducky, just breathe out and relax."

I inhaled as deeply as I could and held it. This interminable agony was unbearable. Nevalle and I rushed back to Neverwinter for _this_? For me to spend an hour subject to this insane woman's whims?

"No, no, not like that at all!" Without looking, I knew exactly what she would be doing, which was to say she would be pursing her lips and standing with arms akimbo.

"Madam, as I have repeatedly pointed out in the past hour, I simply am not well-endowed! No amount of pushing, pulling or broken ribs will change that!" To be more specific, I have seen 14-year-olds with more impressive racks than I had. Stupid harpies, they always gave me the once-over and then proceeded to smirk.

She yanked hard on the laces, and I made a strangled sound as all the air in my lungs was forcefully expelled. She pressed on boisterously, alternately shoving me deeper into the corset and tightening the laces. Before I could get enough air into my lungs to protest, she gave them one final pull and tied it into a dead knot. I was losing feeling in my fingers, the upper border of the corset cutting off blood circulation to my arms. She finished it off with an intricate array of knots that would have been very attractive if it wasn't keeping me trussed up.

After viewing her handiwork with a smug satisfaction for a moment, she steered me into the halls, walking me to a small chamber which I had never been in before. "Off you go now, ducky. They're all waiting for you."

Nevalle was there, rifling through the contents of a chest. "You're finally here," he said irritably without turning around. "I thought that cobwebs would form on my desiccated corpse before you showed up." He turned around, a silken cloak and longsword in his arms. "Oh!"

"Yes?" I managed. Oh _Gods_, I sounded like such a twat. I could hardly utter a word without sighing breathlessly.

"You look…very nice." He was blushing furiously now. I supposed that I did; with all fairness, it was a lovely dress, although Bishop would have laughed himself to death if he had seen me in this ethereal red silk. Either that or jumped me. It was hard to say, with men like him.

"Here, this cloak will mark you as a knight of Neverwinter." Putting the longsword aside, he draped it over my shoulders and fastened it around my neck. His fingers brushed against my bare skin, and he hurriedly pulled away.

Without making eye contact with me, he muttered, "We should go to the throne room now." He picked up the sword, still avoiding my eyes, and walked off.

I probably shouldn't have done it, but I couldn't resist. If they insisted on stuffing me into a noble lady's skin (and thrice-damned corset), I would show them just how very big a mistake they were making.

"Sir Nevalle, aren't you going to give me your arm?" I kept my voice sweet, but husky. The breathlessness did have a certain appeal, I decided. In a distressed damsel, it probably was irresistible, but for someone they were counting on to save them from the King of Shadows… Well.

He paused, and returned with a mortified look on his handsome face. Despite my obvious effect on him, his bow was as graceful as ever, "I do apologise, my lady. Let us depart in haste, we should not delay the assembled from looking upon your beauty."

Sweet-talker. He knew what I was playing at, and he played right along.

I slipped my hand into the crook of his arm, and we walked down the hallway.

"Noble sir," I wheezed, "I must beg thee to slow thy pace, as…" I paused to take a few shallow breaths. "I am feeling quite light-headed."

He turned and looked at me, genuine concern in his mahogany eyes. "Are you all right? It's the corset, is it not?"

"Yes." Something was not right… I couldn't breathe, but the air itself felt oppressive, full of the musty scent of…

"Nevalle! To arms!"

"What?" his eyes flashed as he flicked his gaze over the area. He didn't know what it was, but he felt it too.

I grabbed the sword from his hand—_where they did put my weapons?_—and he drew his own. The metal gates came crashing down and cutting us off from the throne room. The nobles around the castle began complaining immediately, and I couldn't help but smile wryly. How typical.

"The ancient defenses…the castle is under attack!"

It was then that the undead appeared, a nasty collection of vampires and dread wraiths that began to systematically annihilate the assembled nobles.

Nevalle never hesitated in running off to their defense. Astonishingly, I felt offended that he did not spare me so much as a glance. It had to be the dress. It was even making me _think _like a damsel in distress.

I would have followed if I could. Never mind, there were a few nobles cowering behind the first armed person that they noticed. Too bad this particular armed defender had not used a longsword for the past 6 months and was about to pass out from oxygen deprivation.

A vampire stalked towards me, red eyes gleaming hungrily. He was obviously old, with flesh white as marble, and would be unfortunately be as hard to cut through as aforementioned stone. Oh well. I feinted, and it hesitated, leaving on opening which I tried to take advantage of.

The operative word in the previous sentence is 'tried'.

I was not overly surprised that I tripped over the hem of my lovely flowing skirt, especially when I remembered that I was wearing ridiculous heeled boots. The squalling nobles promptly bolted—good for them and all, but they could have acted a little regretful about leaving me to be exsanguinated. I sprawled awkwardly, and promptly scooted backwards until I had my back against the wall.

_Ohshitohshitimgoingtodie…_

The vampire observed me, red eyes glowing. His hand came up, claws extended, and in the instant before he tore out my heart, I had a mental image of the look on Bishop's face when he heard exactly how I had died. Equal parts incredulity, annoyance and amusement, I'd wager. And then he would put a dagger between Nevalle's ribs.

There was a tearing sound…

And the pressure around my chest vanished. I inhaled deeply, registering the confused look on the vampire's face. The wheels in its head spun furiously, checking items off a list:

1. Corner woman in corset

2. Remove corset

3. Toy with food

4. Remove clothes

5. Bite neck, drain blood

Or perhaps steps 2 and 3 were reversed? But the reaver's command pounding through his brain was to _eviscerate! Eviscerate!_ Yet primal instincts scorched into his bloodline screamed _remove the corset! Toy with food!_

The vampire stared at the corset hanging from his claw, willing it to provide an answer. I began edging sideways, and the vampire instinctively proceeded to _step 4: remove clothes_. His claws caught me across my stomach, tearing through silk and skin alike. His next swipe caught my skirt at thigh level and ripped through it smoothly while I scrambled for the sword. Grabbing it, I backed away and the vampire crouched, muscles tensing in preparation for the spring. He lunged forward with preternatural speed, and I barely managed to sidestep in time, his claws grazing my shoulder, hooking the dress and _shitnotagain_. The sword came down decisively. The dress drooped immodestly.

Nevalle came rushing over, "By Tyr, I thought that you had fallen… Gods be thanked that you're safe." His eyes were pulled downwards by an inexorable force, and with Herculean effort, he looked up again. A second later, his nose inexplicably began bleeding.

"Don't say a _word_!" I gritted my teeth and focused my attention on the dread wraith coming up behind him. Damn whoever had the bright idea of _not_ letting me wear my leather armour. We'll see if they ever forced me into flipping heeled boots and corsets again!

When we had fought off the first wave, I followed Nevalle to a small guard room. Where on Faerun was my bag of holding? Maybe I should just pinch a shirt and a pair of breeches off the nearest person. I ditched the boots outside, trying to ignore the cold bite of the stone floor.

"There's no time to lose! We have to get to Lord Nasher!" As he explained about the secret passageway behind the tapestry, he noticed the look on my face. "Please, my lady. This is urgent!"

"And I should like to at least be reasonably decent. For goodness' sake, Nevalle, do you not at least have a shirt?"

The look of embarrassment on his face mixed with a healthy whiff of male hormones promised another impending nosebleed in the knight's near future. "Please, Yun. I fear for our lord's safety."

"Gee, thanks, Nevalle. Sure you don't want to come along for the fun?"

"We'll, ah, keep them off your back. Yes. Godspeed, my lady." He squeezed his eyes shut and turned around. I pulled the gown up roughly, and the unmistakable sound of tearing fabric reminded me that it was probably a good idea to be gentle with what remained. I sighed and attempted to wrap the cloak around myself securely. From what Nevalle had said, the door wasn't far away and this was a very good thing.

Enemies encountered before actually reaching said door:

1 shadow priest

2 dread wraiths

2 ancient vampires (one of which was male, and hence also attempted to undress me)

Quite honestly, I do not count the number of gates between the docks and merchant's quarter. And did I mention that I hate mephits, or that it's too cold down under Castle Never to be prancing around half-dressed?

When I finally burst into the throne room, I was, to put it mildly, extremely annoyed. The reaver was more than a little surprised by the retraction of the panel under its feet, and presumably quite displeased when I stabbed it through its bony chest. It promptly teleported away, and I swore loudly, before I caught myself.

Lord Nasher lowered his weapon, and unconsciously reached up to massage his temples. "Ye gods, woman! What happened to you? Did the rapist flee?"

"He was a pile of ash last I checked, sire."

Lord Nasher did not respond, but simply rubbed his temples harder, perhaps hoping that this barefoot, bleeding apparition in torn clothes would go away. "Are you going to give me cheek, Yun?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, sire." I smiled innocently, and Nevalle, who appeared out of nowhere, coughed meaningfully.

"Nevalle. I am supposed to knight _her_?" I bristled at Nasher's tone inwardly, but continued to smile angelically.

"Yes, my lord. She was instrumental in defending the castle, and she has been loyal to Neverwinter despite some…procedural flaws."

Nasher sighed, and pulled at the ends of his own mustache ruefully. I exchanged looks with Nevalle then. Mine said: is this guy serious? Nevalle's stricken look said: my lady, please don't say anything right now.

I knelt gracefully, gathering up the skirts so that they wouldn't tear any more, and Nasher asked me, "Do you swear to serve Neverwinter loyally as a knight of the realm?"

"I do, milord." I answered with as much feeling as I could muster, which is a great deal, even bringing a few tears into my eyes. It's not my fault that I was born with a finely tuned sense of drama after all, so I might as well make the best of it. I looked up at Nasher with those teary eyes and an earnest expression, so it was no wonder that he nodded approvingly.

Nasher offered me his hand, and I accepted graciously. "Rise, Lady Tian Yun, Knight of Neverwinter. Nevalle, I think she deserves a reward for all the hard work that she has been putting into Crossroad Keep, and to help bolster the defenses, I would like to grant her a further 30,000 gold pieces."

Nevalle's eyebrows shot up, but he bowed from the waist and said formally, "Of course, Lord Nasher. I will see to it at once."

Nasher responded authoritatively, "Indeed you will. And I think that you should go with her to Crossroads Keep and help her make ready, for I sense that it will be pivotal in the coming war. Take good care of her, Nevalle." Nevalle bowed again, and left the room.

To me, he said apologetically, "It's not that I don't have faith in you, my dear. Nevalle is an experienced warrior, and a fine man. I do hope that both of you will work together _closely_." I managed to not choke, which required a titanic effort. Was he actually trying to matchmake me with Nevalle?

He patted my hand kindly. "Serve Neverwinter, and it will serve you. I'm afraid that I must see what became of the nobles and the merchant guild representatives, but I know that you will do what you think best for Neverwinter."

I dropped a curtsy and smiled charmingly. "Of course, Lord Nasher." It wasn't difficult to make my voice pleasant when I was enjoying this little theatrical farce. "My highest priority is the people. I take my leave, and may we meet again in better circumstances."

Sweeping out of the throne room, I was surprised to see Nevalle waiting for me outside. He grinned when he saw me, which was not an expression which I had ever seen nor expected to see on his face. "My lady, I must salute your prowess in the art of…making people see things your way."

"You mean playing men like a lute?" He flushed, but gallantly offered me his arm. "I play them better than I play lutes, actually. But I can't be too good at it, or I would have persuaded you to give me your shirt earlier."

"My lady!" he protested, his face turning even more red, if that was possible. Every drop of blood in his body must have been redirected to his face, physical impossibility notwithstanding. "Honestly, my lady, Lord Nasher is not free with his money. It is nothing short of amazing how you managed to… Well, forgive me for saying so, but how you managed to sweet talk him." I crinkled my nose at him, and he hurriedly added, "I mean, it's not a bad thing, as we will need every copper for the defense of Crossroads Keep, and I'm sure that the reconstruction thus far has been a strain on your coffers."

"I'll say," I agreed wryly, and he looked down, his blush returning to full force.

"Here are your quarters, my lady. I will have a bath drawn for you, and I will track down your bag of holding personally."

"That's really sweet of you, but shouldn't you go get cleaned up as well?" I indicated the bloody stains streaking his blue tunic, doubtless an unwanted reminder of his spontaneous nosebleed.

He laughed ruefully then, and I laughed with him. "We make quite the picture, don't we? I apologise for any humiliation I caused earlier. It was an unprecedented emergency."

I just had to tease him a little more, "Are you sure that it wasn't to keep me running around in this indecent outfit?" His cheeks blazed, and I giggled.

"I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I really could use a bath and some warm clothes, so I must take my leave of you now. I'll see you again in a while?"

He smiled, showing the adorable dimple in his chin. "Yes, my lady, you will."

I offered him my hand, and he kissed it gracefully, lips lingering a second more than was strictly appropriate, then he left, still smiling faintly. I was surprised to find that I was still smiling too, when I realized that the sword was nowhere in sight. Surely I didn't leave it in the throne room? Oh dear.


	3. A Light in Dark Places

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! They make me a happy bunny :) This series of one shots is not in chronological order, since I just write them randomly. I wrote this in one sitting, it's late here and I'm not thinking straight, so bear with me:P I do hope you enjoy reading!

"Can't you sit still for one minute?" he asked, looking uncommonly amused and ungrouchy, which was a very good thing.

"I don't hear you saying that when you're trying to wake me up in the morning!" I flounced around, dodging when he attempted to grab my hand. He reclined against a tree, folding his arms and watching me with firelight dancing in his coppery eyes. "Anyway, why can't you all travel more at night and not have to make me wake up sooo early?"

He snorted at that, "Some of us are actually human and can't see in the dark, Captain. While I'm sure that watching the paladin trip over his feet would be amusing, it would get tiresome. And don't even get me started on the subject of you and waking up."

"See! Make up your mind!" I poked him for emphasis, which was probably not a good idea as he grabbed my hand and pulled me down next to him. Within the space of a blink, I was firmly ensconced in his strong arms, which was surprisingly nice.

He nuzzled at me, sniffing deeply. "Mmmm. You smell nice."

"Let me introduce you to the latest wonder of the world—soap!"

"Next, you'll actually be suggesting that I shave," he replied in mock horror. His voice then slid straight into the dodgy tone that I knew all too well. "Anyway, since you're up and about, I could use a distraction—and it'll be a good way for you to siphon of some of your excess energy."

Ewww. Dodgy.

He began kissing me in earnest then, but I clapped my hand over his mouth as soon as I could. I really did not like this particular turn of events.

"You're just doing this because Casavir said 'Don't hit on the Captain!', so you were like 'Ooh, what a good idea!' and so you're just being contrary!" His eyes crinkled and I felt laughter rumbling up from his abdomen, so I decided it was safe to let go. He buried his face in my neck, laughing quietly.

"What _is _your big problem with people telling you what to do? I mean, it does get annoying, but sometimes they actually are right, if only partially."

He snorted—again—and crushed his lips against my ear. "Hush, you'll wake them, and we really wouldn't want that, would we? And no, it doesn't matter whether they're right or wrong. What matters is that I do what I want."

"Lousy! You're so amoral."

"But you knew that all along, didn't you? At least, I never lied to you." He looked grave then, and for a moment, he reminded me of Casavir. Both honest, yet not completely so.

Honest in a secretive sort of way: check.

Problems with authority (but in different ways, I conceded): check.

Severe emotional problems (but which also manifested at opposite ends of the spectrum): check.

Socially dysfunctional (well, technically only Bishop, but Casavir seemed rather discomfited by Shandra's massive crush on him): check? No check? Hmmm.

At any rate, there surely were enough similarities for them to fall madly in love, given time. And a way to keep them to killing each other, of course.

When I finally decided it was time to pay attention to my surroundings again, I was leaning against him, his cloak pulled around us both. A rough hand absently stroked my hair but I sensed that he was alert as always, watching over us. I could hear his heartbeat, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest made something in me settle down as I timed my breaths to match his own.

"Bishop?"

"I thought you were asleep," he said softly, shifting position so that my head was nestled in the crook of his shoulder even more securely.

"Belly full of bedsprings, remember? I just wanted to say… Don't do anything just because someone told you not to, and don't not do something because someone told you to. I mean, it's kinda difficult, because you might take it as me telling you to do it, and then you'll just go and do the opposite, but I just want to tell you that you should _think _first, all right?"

He snorted (again? This was the third time in ten minutes!) quietly in reply. "I'll _think _about it."

"There's a smart ranger." I just had to ask, so I did. "Did you ever stick anything up your nose as a kid? You keep snorting, and I bet there's something obstructing your airway there."

Out of habit, he snorted in disbelief, and caught himself when I started giggling. He sounded annoyed, yet amused. "No!"

"Are you sure? Maybe I should check."

"And how would you do that, dear girl?" he pulled me onto his lap, kissing both of my sleepy eyes in turn.

"Are you really sure you want to know?"

"I have a feeling that I'm going to have to punish you for this," he said slyly.

Oh well. Since I was going to bear the consequences regardless, I might as well just do it.

The trick depends on knowing what light is, and having a little light in your blood helps you to remember exactly how it feels.

There was a moment of stunned silence, and he growled between clenched teeth, "Oh, no, you _didn't_."

I slipped from his grasp before he could react, ducking behind the tree, and when I heard him come towards me, I sprinted around the other side, giving him a wide berth. Casavir was up within seconds, his warrior's instincts coming to the fore as he drew his sword. He lowered it when he saw me, breathless and pursued by…

"What _is _that?" he asked, unsure of how to react.

Two small, vertical beams of light bobbed towards us, and I discreetly sidled around him.

"_Bishop?_" the paladin said incredulously as the ranger stepped within the ring of firelight. I really wanted to see the look on Casavir's face as well, but I had to satisfy myself with the look on Bishop's face. It was priceless enough, in itself.

"_Dear _Captain, you and I need to have some serious words," he snarled.

"Casavir, he's going to kill me!"

I could just see his impassive face as he replied, "My lady, perhaps you should have thought of that before illuminating his nose."

The ranger seized my wrist, and pulled me close for another protracted kiss. I wasn't sure whose benefit it was for; mine or Casavir's.

"You've been a very naughty girl," he whispered. "I think I'm going to have to kiss you into submission."

The previous one had been…one-sided to say the least, but this was really pushing it.

"Can't you come up with something else? You're always kissing me as a punishment!"

He arched an eyebrow at me, "I like it, you don't. Works fines for me."

"I think that says more about your skill—or lack of—in kissing than anything else." I made a face at him, and he grinned, which looked pretty ghastly since he still had light streaming out of his nostrils.

"That sounds like a challenge…"

"Sheesh, you two! Get a room!" Shandra seemed profoundly grouchy, and Casavir cast a strained, but grateful look in her direction.

"Figuratively speaking, you mean. We are camping in the middle of nowhere after all," I had to add.

Sand's groan was surprisingly eloquent. He flipped over and used his pack to cover his ears, mumbling something about "Pheromones, gods, I _hate_ the smell."

"I don't know! Just…go away or something." Shandra flopped back down, looking uncannily like an invertebrate.

Now, that's a surprise. However, I suspected that any reprieve would be painfully temporary.

Bishop released his hold on me and crouched over her. "Now, now, there's no call to act that way. Since the resident paladin refuses your charms, I feel obliged to bear the burden of keeping you ladies…satisfied."

He couldn't see the new beams of light bursting from his ears and mouth, but the others certainly could. Casavir covered up quite convincingly with a sudden fit of coughing, and Sand withdrew from his cocoon briefly to gloat. "Why, it really is quite becoming."

Shandra simply sighed, sounding and presumably feeling martyred.

I rolled myself up in my own blanket, and said to myself, "Hmph." I wasn't really sure why I was feeling so sulky, but I was. Probably because it was way past my bedtime.

Casavir's voice rumbled, "For someone who is so…Well. I expected you to be better versed in the ways of women. I will take the next watch, Bishop. Good night."

Hmph. I'm going to sulk in my bedroll till noon tomorrow. And I wonder how visible my light would be under the sun's rays…


	4. Polish

A/N: Mysterious things happened to this document between being a Word document and being uploaded, and I didn't check it till now. Heh. Anyway, thanks to everyone who has left comments, and more are always welcome:)

_The Captain_

"I'm bored," I whined, fidgeting while Sand gave me a disapproving look.

"My dear girl, this is the first time I am asking a favour from you, despite having made your acquaintance for the past eight months. Your incessant complaints are really quite unnecessary," the elf said, deftly decanting a bubbling blue liquid into a bottle with nary a pause in his words.

"It's hot, it's boring and it's not like I even use these! Get Qara to do this! She's the one who guzzles most of our potions," I sounded profoundly sulky, and I didn't care. Right on cue, another puff of steam rose from the flask I was stirring, and I huffed in displeasure.

"The idiot girl simply wouldn't do, and you know it," he surveyed the neatly stacked rows of bottles with a satisfied smirk, and returned to measuring out another round of ingredients. I groaned inwardly when he took out the beetle glands. By the Gods, I would be shocked if I could still smell anything after this was over.

"I'm just the unskilled labour here anyway," when he looked over, I stuck my tongue out at him. "It hardly takes more than half a brain to stir a solution!"

"Our favourite pyromaniac would merely demolish my laboratory in an attempt to demonstrate her power, and that would be…undesirable. Besides, for what it's worth, you are the only one capable of understanding my instructions, and not mixing up belladonna extract with scorpion venom."

I sighed, and concentrated on tinkling out a tune against the edge of the flask. At least the potions had really pretty colours.

_Six hours later_

"And that's the last batch. Do sit up straight, Yun, otherwise you _will _fall off the chair, which will result in both the ranger and the paladin trying to eviscerate me for not taking care of their lady love."

I pushed myself off the table, and glared at him. "Very funny, Sand. I'm absolutely cracking up."

"Tsk tsk. That was terribly unsubtle. I expected better of you."

"Whatever." I slumped down onto the table again, foggily watching the liquids swirling in the bottom of the flasks. Pretty…

I hadn't realized that I had said it out loud until Sand said, "You could keep the leftovers as a souvenir, and probably as a reminder to you to never agree with anything I say again."

Idly, I touched my finger to the lip of one of the bottles. The traces of liquid clinging to the rim were a lovely shade of pink, but when it dried and I tried to scrape it off, it stayed on my fingertip stubbornly.

I smiled a little then, and repressed the urge to snicker. "Yes, please. The leftovers would be a lovely souvenir."

Casavir sat up with difficulty and fell over sideways, his blanket slowly unraveling and dumping him onto the floor in stages. He stared up at the ceiling for several minutes, attempting to focus his eyes. It was later than he had ever woken up, judging by the light, far too late for the morning devotions. He supposed that this was how a hangover felt, although he had no memory of getting drunk.

With a groan, he sat upright, and with further effort, pulled himself off the floor. His head felt like…a fluffy, pink thing. That was something she would have said. Come to think of it, she had been behaving quite strangely at dinner last night…

_The Captain_

When Casavir entered the dining room where we all habitually ate together, I shot him a sideways glance while eating a piece of freshly baked bread. He nodded at me gravely, sat down impassively and began smearing butter on a slice of toast. I couldn't help but watch him out of the corner of my eye, but he remained completely neutral.

Khelgar staggered in a few minutes later, still in his nightshirt. "Ugh. I need some coffee." He stared at me for a moment, eyes bleary with sleep, before grabbing the pitcher of coffee and drinking straight from it, seemingly oblivious to the fact that it had been boiling all of two minutes ago.

I saw Bishop lurch down the hallway towards the washroom, I giggled before I could stifle it, and cleared my throat ostentatiously to cover it up. Casavir turned to give me a long, piercing look then, and I blushed and industriously nibbled my bread.

There was a long silence, during which Khelgar carefully put down the pitcher and subsequently stretched himself out on the floor. His breathing slowly evened out, and progressed to small snores.

"What in the Nine Hells!!" and a long series of expletives from the direction of the washroom broke the silence. There was the sound of something being thrown _hard _against the bathroom door, presumably, and moments later, Bishop came stalking into the dining room, eyes glittering dangerously. He was barefoot and shirtless, and the dark circles under his eyes and his tousled hair indicated that he was in the same state as the rest of my companions were. His coppery eyes raked across the room, coming to rest on me. I was trying very hard to look innocent, but I don't think that it was working.

"Why," he asked in a deceptively calm voice, "are my toenails pink and shiny?"

_Bishop_

She tried to repress the smile, but made a muffled squeak, then tried to disguise it with an unconvincing cough. She looked at me with that somewhat guilty, but gleeful look, and I dragged her out of her chair.

"I didn't do it!" by now she was concentrating on looking innocent, and she looked angelic but the mischievous look in her eyes told me otherwise.

"I think that someone needs to be taught a lesson," I said to her, and she shook her head, still looking so damned cute. I don't think she was expecting me to throw her over my shoulder, but I did.

"Aieeee! Help me! Casavir!" she wailed. With more than a little amusement, I noted that our famed Lady Captain couldn't get out more than three syllables at a time. She was always like this when she couldn't decide whether to laugh or scream. "Help! I promise—to be good—forever! I promise! Khelgar! He'll kill me!"

I half-expected the paladin to stop me before I was out of the door, but he didn't. I turned back to look at him, and he raised an eyebrow, and continued with his breakfast, while I grinned and carried on with my little discipline lesson.

Khelgar stirred as Bishop stepped over him, and slowly roused. "Mmgh. Shouldn't we do something?"

The paladin sighed and leaned over the supine dwarf, "Khelgar, my friend, have you looked at your feet lately?"

"… No. Why?"

The githzerai cleric appeared and stated, "Know that my toenails have suddenly turned red, and they seem to have been inscribed with some runes."

Casavir sighed deeply again and said patiently, "Zhjaeve, try to imagine what those 'runes' would look like to a person standing in front of you. Khelgar, just look."

"Know that it spells out I-D-O-N-T-K-N-O-W with a… an exclamation mark as the last arcane symbol."

Khelgar spluttered, "My toes! What…what happened to them?"

"Our lady did. So do yours say anything?"

"I-R-O-N-H-E-A-D. She sure knows how to flatter a dwarf."

Casavir's familiar long-suffering expression was firmly in place as he sighed again. "I don't think that was quite what she meant, but never mind.

It was at that moment that they noted a continuous squalling which was steadily progressing in volume. Shortly afterwards, Sand chose to make his entrance, oddly serene despite the fact that Qara was screaming in his ear.

"GET IT OFF YOU HEAR ME YOU STUPID LITTLE POINTY-EARED SMARMY-MOUTHED—" she didn't notice Sand's subtle gestures and as he ended by drawing his finger across his lips, he said quietly, "_Silence._"

Qara's throat worked, but no sound emerged. With instincts honed by months of managing the pair, Casavir grabbed the young woman before she could claw Sand's eyes out. The elf calmly removed some wadded cotton from his ears and massaged the tips gently, looking unusually beatific. "Good morning, comrades. Our dearest sorceress seems rather excitable today."

The redhead in question pointed at her toes frantically. The Captain had been surprisingly poetic in her inscription: "Damp Ashes". Casavir had a feeling that the lady would have preferred something more derogatory, and certainly 'bargirl' or worse would have been in consideration. All in all, the sorceress really did not have much to complain about.

After giving it some thought, he handed a struggling Qara to Khelgar and went to check on Shandra. She was snoring lightly, and drooling onto her pillow. He gave thanks to Tyr that he no longer did the laundry for their little party. Her toenails were a cheery yellow and the words in black said "Not my fault". He closed the door quietly, and decided that it would be a shame if he let Cook Annah's bread get any colder without giving it due justice.

_The Captain_

"So, what are my chances of finding a wand of sleep on your person, if I checked now?" He said it slyly, evidently relishing the thought of frisking me.

"Zilch," I said with a straight face, trying not to admire how the perfectly defined muscles on his back and how they rippled as he walked while carrying me with ease. Or not do it _too_ obviously anyway.

He snorted disbelievingly. "Fine. What are my chances of finding a burnt out wand of sleep in your bedroom?"

Dammit!

"Got you there, didn't I?" he kicked the door to his room open, and dumped me unceremoniously on his unmade bed. I scooted under the blanket and hid. I didn't want to watch him kill me, after all. I heard him sliding the bolt in place, and then he came to crouch in front of me.

Wrapping the blanket securely around myself, I scuttled into the corner and pleaded, "Dontkillmedontkillmedontkillme…" His blanket smelled very pleasantly of him; not a bad way to go, really.

"Anything to say for yourself?"

"I didn't do it!" I had dropped my slippers somewhere along the way while kicking my legs futilely, so I shoved a bare foot at him. "My toenails are pink too." He grabbed my foot, and I wiggled my toes at him, while adding in a small voice. "See, we match."

I sensed that he was more touched than he was letting on, but still he said, "How should you be punished, hmm?" He stroked my foot absently, and I startled then cursed mentally. This was not a good time for Bishop to realize that I was horribly ticklish.

He smiled slowly then, coppery eyes narrowing with glee.

Uh oh.

He tore the blanket off, and attacked me with his fingers. I did what I had always done since I was a little girl in West Harbor: I closed my eyes, screamed and lashed out blindly with every limb. I felt my foot connect with flesh. Bishop made a choked sound, and fell off the bed onto the floor.

I peeped over the edge where he was lying on the floor with his eyes closed, one hand held protectively over his sensitive bits.

"I'm so sorry! Are you okay? I didn't kick you _there_, did I?"

With a palpable horror in his voice, he said very slowly, "Half an inch. If I had been half an inch shorter…"

Without warning, his eyes snapped open, and he moved fast, even by his standards. I blinked and found him pinning me to the bed, his body stretched out over mine. "I think that this is a better punishment," he whispered, and then he kissed me.

I knew that my eyes were wide when he drew away, and he chuckled at the look on my face. "I know I'm good, even if you can't seem to find the words to tell me."

I found my tongue at that moment, and I retorted indignantly, "If you're so good, why do you have to visit brothels regularly? Huh? Huh?!"

"Just waiting until you admit to yourself that you want me, that's all." He then focused on my neck, and whatever he did, it was terribly ticklish. I twitched and whimpered, highly annoyed at myself for my hypersensitive sense of touch, and he looked at me with incredulity. "By the Hells, are you that ticklish?"

"Are you that afraid of losing your manhood that you have to overcompensate now?"

"That's it. No more talking, no more talking…" he covered my lips with his when I opened my mouth to tell him that it was a really pathetic comeback.

Mm, I forgot what I wanted to say.

It's not hard to tell when a dwarf comes a'calling. When dwarves hammer on a door, they really take the term quite literally. There was a crack as the timber splintered with the first blow. Khelgar said something that sounded like a cross between 'oops' and 'shit', and then cleared his throat and shouted. "All right laddie, play time is up. Yon paladin said to come and get the lady, so let her out now, nice and easy."

Bishop had looked up at the first sound, muscles tensed and ready for a fight. He relaxed again, and brought his face close to mine. "And we were just getting warmed up," he whispered in a voice that made my insides shiver.

Another blow, and this time Khelgar's fist came through the door itself. I heard him saying to someone outside, "But I didn't even use my hammer this time…"

With a sigh, Bishop rolled off me and onto his feet. Lazily, he ambled towards the door and pulled open the latch. Deprived of this vital support, a large part of the door collapsed inwards, and Bishop narrowed his eyes as fragments of wood showered the floor. He side-stepped it neatly, and when the dust cleared, we saw Khelgar rubbing his neck sheepishly while Casavir kneaded his temples with his knuckles.

I knew that Bishop wouldn't pass up the opportunity to rub it in Casavir's face, so I wasn't altogether surprised when he bent over me and brushed his lips against mine softly. "Wake up, princess." He didn't sound sarcastic, which I did not expect. And it was weirdly sweet, even if he was just doing it to prove a point. He offered me a hand and pulled me to my feet, even deigning to kiss me on the forehead.

"My lady, you may wish to consider investing in—ah, sturdier doors." Casavir rumbled drily.

Slipping right back into sleaze mode, Bishop drawled, "Indeed. After all, we," and he looked right at me with that wicked glint in his eye, "might need it for more…heavy usage."

I tried to puzzle that out for a while, and eventually gave up. "That just flew right over my head. Anyone care to translate?"

Casavir's face was a study in pained expressions. "Never mind, my lady. I think that you would prefer not knowing."

"Oh, all right then. Do me a favour and make Qara sweep up this mess. Ask Veedle to fix up a new door." I said briskly.

With impeccable timing, Sand materialized from thin air. "With pleasure," he said with obvious relish.

We were following the cackling elf down the hall when Bishop yelled, "How do I get this stuff off anyway?"

Ignoring him was fun.

Khelgar cleared his throat and asked, "So, erm. What does yours say?" He cast a sideways look at Casavir.

Casavir paused, and finally said, "You tell him."

"Old Owl Well."

Khelgar's laughter echoed through the stone walls of the keep, and shortly after, I heard Shandra screaming my name. Oops, time to hide again.


End file.
